


asterisk is *

by dami_an



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Post-Time Skip, Romance, The Author Is Too Lazy To Put Up More Tags, no proofread we all die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25634032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dami_an/pseuds/dami_an
Summary: The lamp is harsh to Shouyou's eyes, sensitized by alcohol in his system, so he has to blink a few times to look at Miya Atsumu. Has to squint to keep his focus sharp, or everything will be swimming around the edges. There's a smile on Miya Atsumu's face. The one reaches the corner of his eyes. Wide and broad—
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 13
Kudos: 142





	asterisk is *

**Author's Note:**

> cliche prompt & plot
> 
> i suck at titles
> 
> just wanted to get over this urge
> 
> my first atsuhina fic. please be nice

The first time Shouyou meets Miya Atsumu after Brazil, it's at a barbeque restaurant. Loud and rowdy because Bokuto-san keeps trying to pour Gatorade over the grilled meat, encouraged by Thomas and Barnes. In the corner is Sakusa-san trying to sink into the wall, in his attempt to decline Meian-san's meat.

What a shame, Shouyou mourns around a strip of meat. Meian-san grills the best, he learned after the first bite. They were cooked beautifully; the perfect contrast of burnt and raw meat, the dripping juice, even the melting fat.

It's one of the best meat Shouyou ever tasted.

Across the table, meshed between Barnes and Thomas, Miya Atsumu sits on the cushion and says, hi.

Oh, Shouyou think. Then says hi back. 

The lamp is harsh to Shouyou's eyes, sensitized by alcohol in his system, so he has to blink a few times to look at Miya Atsumu. Has to squint to keep his focus sharp, or everything will be swimming around the edges. There's a smile on Miya Atsumu's face. The one reaches the corner of his eyes. Wide and broad—

"I've been waiting for you, Shouyou-kun."

The one Shouyou can't gauge.

  
  


...

  
  


The second time Shouyou meets Miya Atsumu is at the gym.

Sure the coach recognizes his skills, but Shouyou knows his manners. This isn't Brazil. Things work quite differently here; seniority comes first, just a tad above skill sets. As a new player, he can't be strutting around like a peacock on his first day.

But then Miya Atsumu nudges him after the warm-up.

"Wanna spike? I'll set," he says, half-whispering like it's a secret. And with that smile and twinkle in his eyes, it seems almost mischievous; a bad idea.

Shouyou eyes the coach from the corner of his eyes. Sees him talking with Meian-san. Then.

"Sure," Shouyou agrees.

  
  


...

  
  


No, it wasn't a bad idea at all.

He earns respect from the seniors. Bokuto-san lifts him up in the air proudly while Inunaki-san blindly claps his back. Barnes hoots impressed by the spring in his jump. 

On the sideline, arms folded over his chest, the coach has a satisfied smile on his face, like he, indeed, made the right decision to take Shouyou in. 

Shouyou's eyes find Miya Atsumu outside the circle. Miya Atsumu keeps his smile on, hands resting on his hips as if he completed a mission. To ensure Shouyou receives proper recognition in the team. To erase any doubts in his skills.

To make sure Shouyou feels belonged.

  
  


...

  
  


The slight sting in his palm. The relaxing muscles in his legs. The squeaking shoes on the floor. His teammates' cheers.

And those thoughtful and well-practised sets.

Yeah, this is where he belongs.

  
  


...

  
  


The seventh meeting happens at the Tokorozawa station. Tokyo changes a lot after two years, and being a country bumpkin (Kuroo-san's wording—Shouyou wonders how the cat's doing) doesn't help Shouyou's case at all. He's still traumatized by the complicated maze of Shinjuku station.

Hence, an impromptu tour with Miya Atsumu.

It's the weekend, so the cart is thronged with people. Miya Atsumu's impressive height is a gift in the crowd. Shouyou takes advantage by hanging onto Miya Atsumu's sleeve for balance. In return, he listens to Miya Atsumu's complaints.

"I can't—Bokkun just," Miya Atsumu pauses, exasperated, with a pinched look, and continues; "Who the hell leaves their boxers laying around like that?!"

Shouyou grins and says, "At least they are clean."

"It's a sharing space; one room, with two beds. It's called roommates for a reason, two adults sharing a room," Miya Atsumu protests.

"Why didn't you ask Sakusa-san?" Shouyou asks. "I imagine he'd be a good roommate."

Miya Atsumu splutters, eyes ahead at the window. In the window is a reflection of a tall, blonde guy with his lips pouting, like an overgrown kid.

"Urgh, Omi-omi. I'd have to sleep with an eye open."

A laugh spills from Shouyou's lips. Yeah, that sounds very much like Sakusa-san.

The train pulls into a station. Ah, right, IKEA. A wardrobe for his new place. Shouyou looks up, but his view gets blocked by Miya Atsumu's head. Sheesh, too tall, Shouyou grouses.

A tug on the hem of his long sleeve brings Shouyou's eyes downward. Oh, Miya Atsumu's fingers. The door hisses open, and Shouyou feels another light tug. They step out of the cart, and then Shouyou realizes Miya Atsumu clearing the path with his impressive figure.

Ey, Shouyou bites back a grin, cheers for the size difference.

  
  


...

  
  


Upon assembling the wardrobe, Shouyou concludes that Miya Atsumu, one of the top ten setters in Japan, sucks at this.

Wait, they both suck at this. It's been an hour, and the wardrobe has no resemblance to a functioning wardrobe. The steels are littered across the tatami, some screws roll under the shelf. Shouyou can't even locate the Allen wrenches. He swears he put them under the box.

Atsumu plops himself down on the floor, the manual book over his face. "Fuck this shit. I'm pooped!"

Shouyou places his leg over Atsumu's—his apartment is a shithole, according to Atsumu, too small, so there's not much space to stretch out. He snatches the manual book from Atsumu, squinting at it.

"Maybe we do it wrong. Look at this section."

"The book is in Dutch," Atsumu scoffs.

Shouyou frowns. "It's Swedish, Atsumu-san."

Atsumu stares into Shouyou's eyes. The tatami is faded yellow, eaten by time and lack of care. Shouyou thinks if—well if Atsumu-san bleached his hair a bit lighter, it would match the tatami. 

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"Semantics," Atsumu huffs, "We can't read Swedish either."

"That's true," Shouyou hums. "Oh, oh! Maybe we can ask Bokuto-san—"

A cockroach quickly sprints across the room. Atsumu rolls away. "Holy shit—"

  
  


...

  
  


Bokuto-san leaves a dent on the wardrobe sliding door that it can't be closed properly. Shouyou stares at it, with a resigned smile, while Atsumu sighs into his palm.

Lessons learned.

  
  


...

  
  


The twenty-first meeting is quite different. Instead of Atsumu, Shouyou stumbles into the other twin; Miya Osamu, in the hallway before he's headed for the locker room.

"Hey," Miya Osamu greets.

From far, it's hard to recognize which is which. The twins share similar heights and quirks. The same smiles, eyes, even the way they carry themselves. Shouyou has to double-check with their hair colour, which is plainly embarrassing after Miya Osamu greeted him with such familiarity.

"Looking for Atsumu-san?" Shouyou asks, "You're going to need to wait for a bit. He always comes late for practice."

"Yeah, I know that. I'm here not for 'im, though. I'm here for you."

Shouyou wonders if that enigmatic smile is a default expression in the Miya family. "Oh?"

"One question," Osamu says, "What do you think of 'Tsumu's sets?"

Perplexed by the sudden question, Shouyou blinks rapidly. An odd question, but well, "They're good."

"Just good?"

"Oh, oh, no offence," and Shouyou completely understands if Osamu-san got offended. They're twins, after all. "I mean, they're great. Very easy to hit, like Atsumu-san seems to know how I want my ball to be and all? Like I'm just thinking, oh, I want it this high, this spot, so I can KABAAM it like this, and yeah, he delivers it just perfect, just the way I want, and that—that's so cool!!"

Osamu's face seems to be glowing. "Cool?"

"Yes, yes—very, very cool!! Oh, oh, we're practising quick sets, but it's not easy, you know?! But Atsumu-san never stops—he just keeps going and giving me best tosses, and that's so awesome, it's like—ah," Shouyou stops, realizing he's rambling, "Wait, I'm rambling too much—that, uh, sorry—it's just—"

"It's fine," Osamu smiles. A moment of pause as Osamu thinks, then, "I shouldn't be asking this, but, Shouyou-kun, which one do you prefer, his sets or Kageyama Tobio's?"

That, oh. 

That makes Shouyou pause. Makes him stare into Osamu's gleaming eyes, darkened by the shadow of his cap. Makes him think hard—

"The fuck yer doin' here?!" 

A shout, lilted with a heavy accent, brings Shouyou short. Shouyou turns around, only to find, oh, Atsumu-san stalking towards them, with an unpleasant look. He slings an arm around Shouyou's shoulders and pulls close, growling at Osamu-san.

Huh, this reminds Shouyou of Smaug in the Hobbit, possessively growling at the intruders over his stash of gold. Shouyou blinks owlishly.

"Was talkin' to Shouyou-kun," Osamu says, "Before yer came interruptin' like a gorilla."

"Gorilla—you—Shouyou-kun, don't listen to this demon. He's spouting nothin' but lies," Atsumu points his finger at Osamu, gritting his teeth, "Begone thot!!"

"Hey, hey." Shouyou pats Atsumu's arm around him, amused.

Osamu levels his twin with a look. "No onigiri fer yer, then. Shouyou-kun, look, I brought onigiri enough for the whole team. You can have 'Tsumu's portion since he's bein' a real jerk."

"Wait, no, my onigiri—" Atsumu protests.

"Wow, cool, thanks," Shouyou grins.

"—Oh, wow, Shouyou-kun, traitor!!!" Atsumu accuses, scandalized.

  
  


...

  
  


There's a buzz of electricity in the air of winter. It's here; after two years, the vow that Shouyou made back in high school. A match against Kageyama.

Schweiden Andlers. On the first match in the V.League Division. The wheel of fate sure works inexplicably, but Shouyou isn't going to complain. It's just a matter of time, anyway.

When the coach calls his name instead of Barnes, Shouyou knows it's going to be his debut match. An outside hitter, replacing a cannon, and that's no easy feat. 

A huge responsibility is on his shoulders now. His heart pumps harder in his tight chest. Excited, nervous, even anticipation—everything races through his veins. His palm feels cold, so Shouyou looks at it and closes into a fist.

One, two, three, until his blood runs again.

A hand on his shoulder brings him back to the present. Gentle. Encompassing. Solid. Shouyou blinks. It's Atsumu-san.

And that enigmatic smile, cast in shadow as the light baths behind Atsumu-san's head. There's a glint in his eyes too, bright and unreadable.

"I'll take care of the tosses," Atsumu says.

That... seems like a vow to Shouyou. He stares speechless. And when Atsumu removes his hand to talk to Inunaki-san, Shouyou feels the warmth linger on his skin. A soft reminder that he has nothing to worry about.

A smile blooms on Shouyou's lips. Right, that's true. His setter is going to help him fly, after all.

  
  


...

  
  


The roar from the audiences, the heat in his arms, and even the ball floating in the air before it snaps downward hitting the floor; they pump excitement and adrenaline through his veins. Shouyou takes everything in like he can't live without this thrill.

This is his life.

Black Jackals won the match. It's his first win against Kageyama in an official tournament. Shouyou is going to engrave this moment to his memory forever.

"I'll win the next one," Kageyama promises across the net.

Hah. Shouyou grins. "Bring it on."

Because he trusts Atsumu-san to make him fly again and again.

  
  


...

  
  


The hotel their manager booked isn't too fancy. Shouyou gets Thomas as his roommate, and that's awesome because apparently, Thomas is a screamer if you really get to know him. There's no moment where Shouyou doesn't wheeze laughing. That guy can imitate Ushiwaka even though he doesn't speak much Japanese.

It's almost midnight. Thomas uses the shower while Shouyou ventures out for late supper donned in a sweater. Warm meat buns at this hour sound great.

"Where to?"

A voice stops Shouyou at the main door. He spins on his heels, seeing Atsumu walk up towards him.

"Meatbuns."

Atsumu raises a brow. "At this hour?"

"Hungry," Shouyou pouts.

"Okay," Atsumu huffs a laugh, "Let's go together, then. I think I saw a konbini just around the corner."

"Konbini~" Shouyou cheers.

It's dark out, but the streetlights are bright enough, and the area is safe, secure and quiet. Shouyou walks by a bus stop, walking at the edge of the sidewalk because there is a group of teenagers there, loud and rude. They turn to Shouyou. Hands shoved in his jacket, Atsumu puffs out his chest like a warning. It works wonders since that impressive height can be very intimidating.

At the konbini, Shouyou ambushes the cashier for meat buns. Atsumu ambles past him, headed for the beverage section. 

"Atsumu-san, meatbun?" Shouyou asks because he was raised to be polite.

"Sure. Pocari?" Atsumu holds out two bottles of Pocari. Shouyou shows a thumbs-up, with a grin, in response.

The cashier heats up the meat bun, rings the total, and then bags the purchase after the oven dinged. The paper bag is warm in Shouyou's palms when he takes it. Atsumu carries the bottles. They walk out of the konbini into the night.

The teenagers are gone now. Shouyou gives one of the meatbuns to Atsumu and peers inside; two left. One for him, another for Thomas.

"For Thomas?" Atsumu guesses. His breath clouds around his face when he speaks.

"Yep." Shouyou bites into his meat bun.

"He good with you? He can be annoying sometimes," Atsumu prods.

"He's funny. We talk a lot!" Then Shouyou asks, "Atsumu-san is sharing a room with Sakusa-san, right?"

Atsumu scoffs, eyes ahead as he sinks his teeth into the bun, "He's scary. I can't be in the same room with him—he nags so much. I bet he's going to smother my face with a pillow when I'm asleep."

"Nah, Sakusa-san won't do that. He needs your tosses for tomorrow's game."

"Wow, Shouyou-kun, glad to know I value that much to you," Atsumu deadpans.

"You know that's not what I mean," Shouyou says around a mouthful of meat bun. It's still warm in his mouth, so Shouyou huffs breaths out into the sky mitigating the burn.

"Yea, I know..." Atsumu replies, his voice trailing off. 

As though he's in deep thought. He even chews slowly, and Shouyou doesn't think it has anything to do with the savoury flavour, yet Shouyou doesn't press.

"The match," Atsumu says suddenly when they almost reach their hotel. When Shouyou thinks Atsumu has dropped the conversation entirely. When they finish their buns.

"The match?" Shouyou echoes.

"Tobio-kun," Atsumu says, and Shouyou goes 'aah.' He continues, "Good?"

"One of the best."

"By far?"

"Yeah, by far, one of the best matches." Shouyou grins.

"Cool." Another pause. Then, "So... the tosses."

"Whose tosses?"

"Tobio-kun's. Mine," Atsumu says, "Whose... do you like the best?" Almost quietly, engulfed by night. And that's strange—it's odd because Atsumu-san seems to be brimming with confidence twenty-four seven.

Seeing Atsumu rub the nape of his neck, eyes away is foreign to Shouyou.

"Let's see," Shouyou begins, "How to put this into words? Uhm, your tosses aren't like Kageyama's—well, your tosses are good. And Kageyama's too. And that's not a surprise since you both are the top two setters right now. But uh, yeah, you two aren't the same at all."

"Skill-wise?"

"Great," Shouyou decides because there's no doubt in their skillset. Shouyou looks Atsumu in the eye. Firmly. "You both are great setters. Don't doubt that."

Atsumu looks away. "I never doubt myself. It's just—"

"Just?"

"Nothing," Atsumu sighs, turning on his pivot, intending to get inside. 

There's something in that 'nothing'. And Shouyou isn't going to let this go. He grabs Atsumu by the wrist and looks into Atsumu's wide eyes. Uncertainty swims in those eyes, and Shouyou—

Osamu-san. Ah. That. Realization dawns on Shouyou, and his lips curl into a smile.

"To be honest," Shouyou says, "I like your tosses better."

Atsumu is stunned into silence, wide-eyed. Shouyou closes his fingers around Atsumu's hand. Feels the calluses on his palm; the proof of Atsumu's hard work to be a great setter.

"I relied on Kageyama's tosses in the past. They built who I am today, so I can't deny the significance of his tosses in my life. But in the end," Shouyou lets out a sigh, the one that carries memories from the past.

Memories of Kageyama's smirks. Of Kageyama's warmth. Of a time gone.

A squeeze from Atsumu brings him back. And Shouyou pulls a small smile. That warms Shouyou's heart.

"But in the end, he tosses to me because he's a setter," Shouyou says, "But you, Atsumu-san, toss to me because you want to. Like you want me to be your spiker, and yeah," Shouyou grins sheepishly, eyes down on Atsumu's open palm in his hands. Runs his thumb on the pulse. Shouyou laughs. "That kinda hits differently. Flattering too. Your tosses make me very, very happy, Atsumu-san."

Silence. Uh, he might have crossed the line, Shouyou realizes. Feeling guilty, Shouyou looks up to meet Atsumu's gaze.

"Oh, did I say something wrong?"

"...no."

"Then," Shouyou swallows, worried, "Then why are you looking like that?"

"Like what."

"About to cry."

That's the truth. That frown, those red eyes, even trembling lips, Atsumu-san seems close to bursting into tears. And Shouyou can't understand why. Tentatively, Shouyou squeezes Atsumu's hand, in hopes it can make him feel better.

"No, I just," Atsumu shakes his head.

"Just?"

A whisper of 'fuck it,' from Atsumu, and Shouyou suddenly finds Atsumu closing in, face just a breath's space away. Surprised by the sudden proximity, Shouyou's breath catches in his throat. 

Up close, Shouyou can see the length of Atsumu-san's lashes when he blinks; they are short and straight. The gleam in Atsumu-san's brown eyes; the way those pupils dilate to adjust to the dimness. His red nose. The puffs of warm breaths on his skin. His heart pounds louder when he feels something brushing his upper lip.

And yet nothing happens. Just hovering close that the breaths mingle into one, that it heats up Shouyou's cheeks. A hand steadies Shouyou's shoulder, and Atsumu-san closes in—

Shouyou gasps, "Atsumu-san—"

A bite on his nose throws Shouyou off. Shocked, Shouyou jumps back, a hand on his nose. "What was that?!"

A smirk splits Atsumu's face into two. "Kiddos should be sleepin' now. It's way past yer bedtime."

Wait, that. "Hey, I'm 21 years old!!"

"Could've fooled me, that height."

"HEY!!!"

  
  


...

  
  


Shouyou's upper lip burns at the thought.

  
  


...

  
  


It ignites something inside Shouyou, then. This burning sensation in his chest. The butterflies in his gut. Even a simple brush of Atsumu's fingers on his skin makes Shouyou's pulse race.

That night changes Shouyou into a ball of mess around Miya Atsumu. And yet Atsumu-san remains his flamboyant self.

Those dramatic gestures. The stupid bickering with Sakusa-san. Those heated gazes before he serves. Celebratory high-fives whenever Shouyou scores against the opponent team.

It's as though Atsumu-san isn't affected by that night, and that's unfair.

It's unfair because—

"Great spike, Shouyou-kun," Atsumu-san says, with a clammy grin, after the satisfying spike. After he sent Shouyou flying again. 

With that flushed cheeks. With those tips of the blonde hair glowing in the spotlight, skin soaked in sweat, and that slap on Shouyou's back, firm and warm and—

Yeah, it's so unfair.

  
  


...

  
  


"So you're crushing on Atsumu-san now," Kageyama says into the phone. Not a question. A statement instead.

Shouyou buries his face in the pillow, pressing the phone on his ear. Frustrated. "I'd appreciate it if you could be a little bit tactful."

It's night, and tomorrow they have a match against Tsukishima's team; Sendai Frogs. The clock reads almost eleven. He should be sleeping by now, and Thomas' snores are a temptation.

But this flutter in his stomach keeps him awake. No one to turn to, so Shouyou calls Kageyama. From what he learns, Kageyama just finished his late running.

Not a brilliant idea since Kageyama's brain can't process shit except volleyball.

"What are you going to do about it?" Kageyama asks.

Shouyou stares out of the window. Watches as one by one light switched off on the building across the street. And hums into the phone, "I don't know."

"You don't know."

"I don't know."

"Just tell him that you like him."

"Dude..." Shouyou groans, exasperated.

"What," Kageyama says, gullible, "You got guts flying alone to Brazil for volleyball, and you're saying you don't have guts to do this?"

Shouyou slips out of bed and excuses himself to the bathroom, in case he might wake Thomas up. "It's not the same, Bakageyama!"

"You like volleyball. You like Atsumu-san."

Shouyou is this close headbutting against the wall. He closes the door behind him. "If anything happens, the team dynamics might get destroyed. He's our setter!!"

"Are you going to let that affect your team if that happens?" Kageyama shoots.

"What—of course, no! I'm a pro player now!"

"And Atsumu-san?"

"No." 

Because the answer is obvious. Off the court, he's a storm, prone to chaos, created by his sharp tongue and insults. But on the court, Atsumu-san is an epitome of professionalism. He won't let anything disrupt his pace, feelings included.

Because Atsumu-san is just like him; volleyball is their everything.

Oh, he realizes.

"Oh," Shouyou says.

And Shouyou can hear Kageyama's smile in that sigh. "Dumbass." Like he knows Shouyou better than himself.

Yeah, right, Shouyou muses, with a bittersweet smile. He rubs his nose. He was Kageyama's before.

  
  


...

  
  


Easier said than done. Hah.

  
  


...

  
  


Winter is the lovebird season, Shouyou realizes this, with bitterness. Couples stay as close as decently possible using the biting coldness as the excuse; sharing their gloves, even their scarfs and coffees. Their ears turn red, and Shouyou isn't sure if it's the coldness or the love in the air.

Envy is an ugly feeling, which is a piece of shocking news to him since Shouyou had never cared about romance before.

Urgh, that night truly made a mess of his mind.

"Heads-up."

And something warm is pressed against his right cheek. Shouyou looks up from his shoes and sees Atsumu-san holding two warm drinks. 

"Coffee?" Shouyou quirks a brow.

"Hot chocolate."

Shouyou gets up from the bench and accepts the drink. "You didn't have to."

"You waited for me, so it's fair," Atsumu says.

"Fair," Shouyou agrees, taking a sip. "What did Osamu-san say?"

The traffic light is red. Shouyou watches as the vehicles zoom by, standing close with Atsumu-san. The rest of the team have gone to their rooms first, intending to lick their wound. Only Shouyou stayed behind while Atsumu went to see his twin.

Tachibana was a ruthless opponent, after all.

Atsumu shoves a hand into his jacket, muttering into his drink, "Told me to come over next weekend. He's trying a new recipe and apparently, I'm his rat lab—that shit."

"Oh, oh, can I come too?" Shouyou hops to the crossing after the light turns green. Eager.

"You wanna come?" Atsumu blinks.

"Yeah, it sounds fun—" then Shouyou recovers, beet-red, slowing down as he combusts into embarrassment, "Uh, I mean if you don't mind—that's—"

"Nah, not a problem. It's just, uh, his first trials are usually awful."

"Yeah, right, you know what, on the second thought, I guess that's okay," Shouyou grins, "Hate to be the third wheel."

Atsumu is quiet at first, his bottom lip jutting out and his eyes squinting at Shouyou; suspicious. Then he slaps Shouyou's back. Firm.

"Nonsense. 'Samu likes having you around. Make your schedule free this Sunday. I'll fetch you at ten," Atsumu says, his tone brooking no argument.

"Okay." Shouyou tugs at his bag strap. He moves his eyes down at his shoes. They're bursting at seams. He's going to need a new pair soon. "I didn't know Osamu-san likes having me around. He seemed cold to me."

"Yer kiddin'. He's been asking about you since you started to play with us. Noisy shit," Atsumu scoffs into his drink. Finishes it in a few gulps. And lobs the cup into a bin, with impressive precision.

"Ah," Shouyou says. After two blocks, Shouyou sees a couple walk out of a coffee shop down the street, with broad smiles on their faces. Sweet. Happy. Something warm spills inside Shouyou, and it's not hot chocolate.

"How about you?"

"About me?"

"Yeah. Do you like having me around?"

"That's a stupid question. Of course, I like having you around—"

"The other night," Shouyou snaps his head around to meet Atsumu's eyes. "After the Andlers. Were you trying to kiss me?"

That startles Atsumu-san into a halt. Wide-eyed, Atsumu stares at him. Shouyou can see his throat bobbing up and down. A sign of nervousness. It's a miracle the drink hasn't crushed in his grip.

"I don't get—"

"Atsumu-san."

Silence. A car drives by. In the corner, behind the bin, a black cat curls into itself, sleeping. The breeze ruffles Atsumu's blonde hair. Shouyou cradles the warm drink with both hands, hoping it can ward off the coldness. It doesn't really work.

"...I'm sorry." Atsumu-san drops his gaze on the ground. Scuffs his shoes.

"Sorry for what?"

"For that night."

"Why?"

Atsumu-san clenches his eyes shut. He rubs his face. Shouyou knows that look. It's the look where Atsumu-san tries to take the blame. Frustrated. Angry at himself.

"I tried to—"

"Kiss me?" Shouyou says.

"Yeah, that. It shouldn't have happened," Atsumu groans. Like he's regretting it. "I was—it's like I was forcing my feelings on you and that—fuck, I'm so sorry, Shouyou-kun. I promise that won't happen again."

"Ah." Shouyou looks away. 

In the distance, a crow flies by. The clouds march southward. The sky is cranberry red, fading into purples and pinks and goldens. 

Reminds him of Atsumu-san's hair.

"What if," Shouyou starts saying, "What if I kiss you now?"

Another pause. Then, "What."

Shouyou turns back to Atsumu. "I want to kiss you now."

Atsumu stares at him. Blinks once, then twice before he stutters, "Wait, what?"

"I want to kiss you now."

"Wait, wait, how did this escalate? Shouyou-kun, you can't just say that," Atsumu tries.

"Well, I like you, and you like me, so we can kiss, right?" Shouyou shrugs like it's nothing. And really, it is nothing wrong about that.

Atsumu opens his mouth. Clamps it shut. Then takes a deep breath. "You can't expect me to accept that when you talked about it like it meant nothing."

"It does mean something."

"Define something."

Words aren't his forte—Shouyou knows this. So he leaves to his action; pulling Atsumu-san down by the front shirt and pressing their lips together.

Long and lingering until his eyes flutter closed. Until the surprise in Atsumu vanishes. Until Atsumu melts into the kiss. Until he tastes chocolate on Atsumu's tongue.

When Shouyou pulls away, they both have pink cheeks, eyes half-lidded and lips parting. Absorbed in the moment. In their own bubble. Nothing else matters. Not even the bike passes by them. Not even Bokuto's hoot in the distance (how).

"Wish I could kiss you longer," Shouyou breathes.

In the evening light, Atsumu-san's brown eyes gleam. Atsumu's eyes are honest, the way they return, hungry and lingering to Shouyou's lips makes his heart flutter.

"What's stopping you?"

Shouyou grins. "My hot chocolate is getting cold."

Atsumu blinks. Then huffs a laugh, with a hint of that enigmatic smile, soft around the edges, eyes down on Shouyou's drink. "Yeah, I get that—"

Shouyou pulls him down for another kiss.

  
  


...

  
  


Shouyou hasn't figured out that enigmatic smile. Hasn't understood what makes Atsumu-san smile like that. Happy, sad, tired; Shouyou doesn't know. 

But that's okay. That's okay because now he's got time to get to know Atsumu-san better.

  
  
_~end~_


End file.
